Uhm. Hi. So this is my CoD story I've been meaning to post for like...ever now. I've revamped it so many times it's not even funny. xD Hopefully you like it.

But it's probably crap, forewarning.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy it! You might be able to tell where I got some inspiration for some of the family members. Paul has a big family, I decided, so I definitely used some inspiration. Lol. You can probably DEFINITELY guess where I got the dad from. If not, you'll probably get it in chapter two. Adam's family is from a specific show as well. So anyways, here's my very slow burn Call of Duty fic that's taken me forever to write. I'll probably be going back and forth between this and Laat Dovahkiin. I do not have a update schedule because my life is too hectic for that shit. So I'll update when I update. Also chapter length will vary...because sometimes I write a lot and sometimes I write hardly at all. And that's annoying. Sorry.

Also, I DID have a polyvore account just for fun for this, to kind of follow along with when it had scenes where civilian clothing was allowed. But seeing as how polyvore decided to go AWOL...I guess not. -_-

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

Walk on Water
Chapter One: The Ones We Leave Behind

"The soldier, above all other people, prays for peace, for he must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war." - Douglas MacArthur

The soft sound of a piano being played carried throughout the walls, permeating the entire house and creating a sad ambiance for the residents within. The sadness of the melody was fitting considering what the day was going to bring for Sophie and her family. She sat at her desk, head down and fingers pausing momentarily on the Kimber 911 handgun she had been cleaning, a small frown pulling at her lips at the recognition of the music. Gymnopedie No. 1 by Satie, if her memory served her correctly – it was a piece she heard plenty of times in the house whenever her nephew was feeling somber. The first chord being struck alerted Sophie to the fact that her brother Adam had arrived along with his wife, Sally. Their child, Tommy, was only thirteen and had an IQ higher than most people. He was what society referred to as 'gifted', the fact that he could play the piano so well only a testament to that.

Sophie resumed cleaning her gun, fingers covered in latex to protect her skin from the solvent, and though the smell was never pleasant the act of cleaning her gun was methodical. It was routine and that in and of itself was comforting. She could hear the sound of feet shuffling through parts of the house, the muffled voices of her family, and now the song Tommy played on the grand piano in the foyer. Still, she sat at her desk, not even dressed for today's event but still dressed for bed – yoga shorts and one of her old gray army t-shirts. She reached out along her desk to grab a Q-tip, dipping in the solvent and using it to clean the hard to reach places on her gun, focused on the task at hand.

A knock on her door brought her out of her concentration, her body tensing for a second before she remembered it was probably a family member. Her body tended to react on its own sometimes, given her job, but it happened enough that she got used to it. Muscle memory had saved her life occasionally, so she let it go as her door opened and her brother peeked his head in. Their eyes met and for a moment the two siblings stared at each other, Adam tilting his head to the side as he took in Sophie's appearance. Adam looked the most like their father, as well as being the oldest, always making him look older to Sophie's eyes. Though perhaps that was simply a memory of her childhood – she wasn't sure. Adam's eyes moved from Sophie's frame to the desk, eyeing the disassembled gun before frowning a little and coming further into the room, shutting the door behind him.

Sophie's eyes traveled from her brother's face immediately as her ears picked up the sound of an added weight scuffing against the floorboards, hazel eyes landing on the crutch Adam was putting his weight on, the leg closest to it still wrapped up tight in a cast.

"Hey gimpy," she greeted.

"Charming as ever, Sophie." Adam stepped further into the room, close to Sophie's bed before shifting forward, using a hand to brace himself as he sat down with a grunt. He let the crutch fall onto the bed next to him as he adjusted his leg out straight in front of him, eyeing it for a moment before looking at Sophie again. "You're not dressed."

"I see your eyes still work at least."

"You're also cleaning your gun," he mentioned, ignoring her jab at him for the time being.

"Brain seems to work just fine as well," she commented. Adam sighed and leaned back onto his hands, tilting his head to the side again. "Oh, come on," Sophie started. "You walked right into that one. Or should I say limped? That sounds better."

"The words sound mean but the tone sounds affectionate," Adam muttered to himself, raising a hand underneath his chin as if pondering, not even addressing Sophie.

"You mispronounced accurate," she sassed. Adam snorted and shook his head, eyeing Sophie once more as he took in her appearance one more time.

"Why aren't you dressed?" he asked seriously. Sophie frowned a little and turned back to her gun, resuming the cleaning process. "Sophie?" he asked.

"I don't…" she started quietly, mumbling the rest under her breath.

"I didn't hea—" Adam started, but Sophie threw a look over her shoulder and cut him off.

"I don't want to watch what's left of my brother be put into another hole in the ground," she blurted, both siblings wincing at the bluntness of her words. Sophie turned back to her gun. "Sorry," she murmured, taking in a deep breath and closing her eyes for a moment. She could hear Adam shifting behind her, but she kept her back to him this time, not quite able to look at him just yet.

"Dad wants to bury him," Adam finally said after a few moments of silence. Sophie held back a scoff.

"There's nothing to bury," she said resolutely. "We're burying an empty casket with some of Paul's things. That's not a burial, Adam. That's just…sad."

"Paul would still want us to do it," he said softly. Sophie leaned back into her chair and removed the gloves off her hands, tossing them onto the table in front of her. "You will go, won't you?"

Sophie did look at him now, eyes traveling back to the leg in the cast, and up the entire left side of his body. The rest of the burns and scarring she couldn't really see, but Adam couldn't hide the scar on his neck, crawling up from beneath the collar of his shirt, the ends of it looking like it was almost lashing up towards his face.

"Of course I will," she answered quietly. Adam looked tired, she noticed. She wondered, not for the first time, if he'd ever look like he wasn't tired ever again. The burning and scarring was painful, Sophie knew that. Physically though, it was probably the radiation that was making him feel so exhausted. Not to mention the emotional and mental exhaustion he was feeling. She reached out unconsciously, fingertips very softly brushing against the scar tissue on his neck, careful not to put too much pressure on it and cause him pain. Adam stiffened a little at first, but relaxed against his sister's touch, not minding the contact.

"It doesn't hurt as bad as it looks," he told her. She scoffed at him.

"Liar," she accused. Adam smirked a little and shrugged it off, not denying her claim. It was mostly habit, Sophie could tell. When you had friends and family that waited for you to get back from overseas, and they saw the wounds and scars for the first time, it was always easier to lie. To tell them it wasn't as bad as it looked, or it's not a big deal at all, or nothing to worry about. Sophie knew that feeling quite well. She gingerly moved from her chair and crawled onto her bed, sliding next to Adam's undamaged side and leaned into him, resting her head on her brother's shoulder. "I miss Paul," she said very quietly. She could feel the weight of Adam's head settling on top of hers.

"I miss him, too."

"What are we gonna do, Adam?" she asked, swallowing the thickness in her throat.

"If mom were still alive and had her way she'd have all of us retire," Adam joked, nudging Sophie a little. She couldn't help but smile at the thought, however short lived it was at the thought of her deceased mother. Thoughts of her mother always brought her to thoughts of her father.

"I don't know what dad's gonna do…" she trailed off.

"I wish I could say he'd be fine," Adam started. "And maybe he will be…eventually. He's not alone, Sophie. He has Emily and Spencer to help him through this."

"No parent should ever have to bury their child," Sophie muttered bluntly, eyes closing. She could feel wetness between her lashes, pressing into her cheeks, but she didn't cry. She still hadn't cried since she found out her brother had died, though she couldn't help but correct herself at that thought. Her brother didn't die – he was murdered.

"You're right," Adam said gravely, thinking about his own son still playing the piano he could hear throughout the house. "But dad knew what he was getting into….to have all three of his kids go into the military…he knows."

This didn't really bring any comfort to Sophie, even though her brother wasn't wrong. Yet, she counted a lot of ways in which he was wrong. Their father might have known what his kids were getting into, but that didn't mean he was prepared to lose his child. What parent could ever be prepared for that? The two sat in silence for a while longer as Sophie picked up the sound of another pair of footsteps echoing in the hallway, stopping short at her door. There was a knock before the door swung open a crack, their father sticking his head into the room to look for his children. Upon finding them sitting together on the bed, he opened the door a bit wider and stepped inside.

"I was wondering where you had gone off to," he said to Adam. "Sophie…you're not dressed."

"I see where you get your eyesight from," Sophie muttered to Adam, nudging him in the side. He scoffed at her and pushed her off him, turning back to their father.

"Sophie is going to go get dressed," Adam told him, eyeing the black dress hanging in front of Sophie's closet. "Right now, in fact." Sophie rolled her eyes and stood up, sticking her tongue out at Adam childishly as she grabbed the garment hanging up as well as a few other things.

"No need to get up, gimpy. I'll leave my own room and go change in the bathroom instead. You just relax," she told him offhandedly.

"You youngsters are so kind to us handicapped. Offering up your seats, helping us cross the street, and giving up your bedroom so I don't have to move for a while longer," Adam teased. Sophie glared at him before walking towards her door, stopping to lean up and give her father a peck on the cheek in greeting. Aaron glanced at them both affectionately, not bothering to butt into their bickering – it was a losing battle.

"I hope when you get up your other leg breaks," she commented over her shoulder. Adam smirked at her and rolled his eyes as she exited the room and headed towards the shared bathroom upstairs. She could hear Adam and her father talking, but not loud enough for her to hear. She didn't quite care to listen in, anyways. She doubted she'd like what she heard. On the way to the bathroom, Adam's bedroom door opened and his wife, Sally, stepped out. Sally looked almost the same as Sophie remembered her from high school. Blonde, legs up to her neck, with the face of a runway model. The only difference now was she looked slightly older, had a few more worry lines etched into her face, but beautiful nonetheless.

"Sophie," she greeted, voice sad. She reached over to pull Sophie into a hug, Sophie letting her. She gently patted Sally on the back and accepted the unnecessary apology, not really hearing her. She tried to listen to her sister-in-law, mostly because she genuinely liked Sally and didn't want to come off as cold. Unfortunately, Sophie just didn't have it in her to try that hard today.

"Tommy sounds like he's getting better at the piano," was all she could manage to say after Sally had pulled back and was looking at her expectantly. Sally looked at her face for a moment, eyes searching for something in Sophie's. Whatever it was, the brunette guessed she didn't find it because she simply gave her a small smile and released her, nodding her head in agreement and allowing the subject change.

"I don't know how he could get better, but he is. He really is," she answered. "His music has been sad lately, for the most part. I think he's struggling."

Sophie nodded, crossing her arms over her chest as she shifted a bit where she stood. "Well…he's got two amazing parents. Now that Adam's on medical leave, you'll have him here to help you. Tommy will be okay," Sophie reassured, reaching out to touch Sally's hand for a moment. The blonde smiled and nodded, looking past Sophie and towards the staircase where the music was louder.

"Thanks. You should go get dressed now," Sally murmured, offering another quick apology before stepping around her to head downstairs. Sophie turned and watched her go for a moment, a small frown etching onto her face as she did so. She turned away and stepped into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind her. She leaned against it and took in a deep breath, holding it and counting to three before releasing it very slowly.

"You can do this," she whispered to herself, the big mirror in the center of the wall catching her reflection. Sophie found herself slowly stepping towards it, taking in her appearance. Her long dark brown hair was currently thrown up into a pony-tail and she currently wore no makeup on her face. She leaned over the sink to take a better look at her skin, turning her head side to side for a moment. She was pale, but not obnoxiously so, but she couldn't help but look tired. Everyone looked exhausted, if Sophie was being honest. But the tiredness that settled into her bones wasn't something Sophie could put into words. Her eyes were the same hazel as they always were – the same shade as her mother's eyes.

Except where her mother's eyes were vibrant and bright, Sophie's seemed listless and void of emotion. Like she was bored with the world and everyone in it. The dark circles underneath her eyes only made the lifelessness more pronounced and noticeable, at least to Sophie. Perhaps it was just in her head. She turned the water on and let out a sigh, turning away from her reflection and leaning down to begin washing her face.

She went through the motions quietly and seemingly without interest. She curled her hair and tucked half of it back, she did her makeup to make herself look more alive than she felt, she pulled on her dress and her stockings and her heels. She put her choker on and placed the earrings into her ear. Looking more like herself but unfortunately not feeling like it at all. When she was finished she put her hands down and looked at herself.

She could see bits of her mother and bits of her father. She could even see a resemblance to her brothers – to Adam and to Paul. Unlike Sally, Sophie had changed a lot since high school. Long gone was the awkwardly gangly girl with short hair and freckles, now stood a woman of strength and thanks to her genes even a woman of beauty. The military had ensured her strength. No longer gangly at all, Sophie was toned and fit. She felt strong and healthy. As far as the beauty part went, she trumped that up to genetics. She certainly hadn't put any effort into it, finding that to not really be a good use of her time. She wasn't sure if she could ever recognize that gangly little girl ever again, but this woman staring back at her didn't' seem familiar either. The body was correct but there was something off about it.

"Stop having an existential crisis in the bathroom and go to your brother's funeral," Sophie muttered under her breath, breaking herself out of her trance and turning on the spot, leaving the bathroom without looking back. Adam had managed to get himself up and back down the stairs in the time it had taken Sophie to get ready, but her father remained in her room – waiting for her it seemed. Sophie stopped in the doorway to her room, her father's back facing her as he looked at the shelves and bookcases and desks in her bedroom, eyeing the objects but keeping his hands behind his back. He stopped at her disassembled gun, mostly clean now but still in pieces on her work desk, the lamp still on above it.

"I can't believe you still use this gun," he said quietly over his shoulder, having heard Sophie's heels approaching. She crossed her arm and leaned against the doorframe, tilting her head a little.

"That's my lucky gun. Why wouldn't I use it?" she asked. He turned to her, raising an eyebrow a little at her statement.

"How can a gun be lucky?" he asked.

Sophie offered up a small smile and shrugged. "You're the profiler. You tell me."

At this her father straightened up and turned to face her, head tilting in a way that reminded Sophie where she got it from. Her father worked at Quantico in the BAU, head of the unit in fact. He was the best profiler the FBI had and made a career of catching serial killers, but his profiling skills were always a bit of a game in the house, much to her father's chagrin.

"I don't profile you guys," he insisted. Sophie knew he always wanted her brothers and herself to know that he didn't use his profiling skills on them, since profile in and of itself could be very invasive of one's privacy. It was a fantastic skill and that Sophie's tried to learn and pick up on as much as she could. However, she rolled her eyes a little at his statement.

"You profile everyone dad," she told him. "You can't help it. But that's okay, we still love you."

"Oh, well that's very assuring," he joked. Even though he smiled at her Sophie could see that he was sad. Like there was something he wanted to say but couldn't bring himself to say it.

Instead he opted for safer territory with, "You look very beautiful."

She stared at him for a minute before pushing herself off the doorframe and crossing the room, gently wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a hug. He stayed still for a moment, but ultimately, he couldn't resist affection from his children – even if they were all rough and tough soldiers. At the end of the day, they were still his kids. He held her tightly, laying his head down on top of hers, reaching a hand up to lightly stroke the back of her head. "I'm sorry dad," she almost whispered.

"We'll be okay. Not today. Not for a while…but we'll be okay. We'll make it," he assured her. Sophie wasn't sure if it was more for himself, but she simply nodded into his shoulder. "Don't worry about me, kiddo." He told her. He pulled back from her to place his hands on her shoulders, taking in her appearance and face. "What about you? How are you doing?" he asked.

Sophie didn't really know how to answer, but she was always honest with her dad. "I don't know," she told him. "I feel like I should be…feeling more…but I don't. Maybe that's a bad thing, I don't really know. I just…want today to be over with," she finished. She frowned a little and looked down, avoiding her dad's gaze for the time being. She felt him place his hands on either side of the head and lean down, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before smoothing her hair back down.

"Not knowing is fine, Sophie. Just one day at a time, right?" he asked, picking her head up to look at him. She offered a small smile and nodded, agreeing.

"Right," she agreed. He smiled at her and linked arms with her, leading her towards the door.

"It's about time," he told her softly. She let him lead her out of the room and down the hall, stopping at the top of the staircase. The piano had ceased playing, but Sophie could hear the rest of the family all gathering in the foyer. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, tightening her grip on her father's arm. He held her back tight, anchoring her to him. Sophie figured he needed it as much as she did. With a pang of resoluteness settling inside of her, Sophie opened her eyes and let go, beginning the descent down the stairs with her father right behind her.

It was time to bury Paul Jackson.